Amanda was the kind of girl who could never get enough. Enough attention, enough sex, enough of living. She was one of those people who never lived vicariously through someone else... she was the kind that everyone else lived vicariously through. She was that wild friend; that crazy girl with four tattoos and a nose ring and a penchant for getting herself into all sorts of trouble. Her favorite words were 'wicked' and 'redemption' and she never worried about those words in terms of God.
God wouldn't forgive her anyway. After a while, apologizing was no use because forgiveness was fraud... she didn't mean it... and neither did he. Religion was for the poor and downtrodden who needed some reason to keep going on through their bleak days. God was for the sick, who prayed daily for a release from their hell. Amanda, was none of these things.
She was 19, tall, curvy and endowed with an attitude the size of Alaska. Those who didn't fawn openly, fawned in secret... or lusted after those luscious curves. She'd laugh and proclaim herself 'The Devil' and take as much pleasure as possible in corrupting innocents. Truly the biggest wild child that the 20th century had spawned. She liked her music loud and her car fast, her lovers bold and her friends outgoing, she loved being 'fucked' and hated guys who always asked 'is this okay?' She loved telling stories and having them told in return. Once, she'd masturbated in the jeep while stopped at an especially long stop light. She loved that jeep. Had once said that if she could do it comfortably... she'd ride the parking brake.
As she sped at 60 miles per hour down route 41 she laughed and pushed a few stray locks of dark auburn hair behind her ears. The wind whipped in through the windows and the semi-discordant strains of Poe's "Hey, Pretty" thudded at full blast against the deafening bass of her speakers. The tropical air whipped her hair around her face and silence reigned in the car despite the loud music. Dave, didn't speak... and neither did she.
He was a couple of years her senior. Quiet, pensive, he chain smoked and seemed all too old for 21. Dyed black hair that fell haphazardly in his face covered skin so white, that everyone in town could tell immediately... that he was an outsider. He wore dark clothes, and seemed overdressed for the balmy heat of southern Florida's December. Jeans, a T-shirt, a jacket, and still he didn't sweat. He sat there, his blue eyes upon Amanda's flesh.
He pondered her tan, and the scorching sun it must have taken to give her that sun-kissed look. She had always been too fair before, too white to get a decent tan on. She must have spent a lot of time at the beach since moving south... then again, who wouldn't? He also pondered the change in wardrobe since leaving home. She'd always been a jeans and t-shirt girl... always sporting some band or singer's name. Manson, Trent Reznor's face... Gavin Rossdale's lyrics. Now she'd changed. Gone was the 'grit sexy' and here to stay was the suave sex that he actually quite enjoyed. T-shirt had been replaced by a Navy blue tank-top with a V neck and spaghetti straps. The blue jeans had been cast off in favor (and he enjoyed this the most) of an ankle length, high slit, low off the hip... skirt. He cleared his throat slightly as she slumped in the seat and turned to smile at him with that wicked gleam in her eyes.
Dave smiled back then turned his face and looked out the window. Palm Trees. Never had he seen palm trees before. They were a novelty, especially strung as they were, with cords of multicolored Christmas lights winding up their trunks. They passed one house that had a huge cardboard sign out front that said in big, black letters "Happy Birthday Jesus!"... Dave almost laughed. He heard Amanda sigh and turned his head to look at her. She'd leaned back in her chair, slumped slightly, one arm steered the blood red jeep, the other hand rested idly in her lap. The front panel of fabric that made up her skirt fell down between her legs, allowing him a view of her tanned thighs... her hand rested there, lax. The car came to a slow halt at a stoplight and he looked away.
Amanda placed her hand on her stomach and let it rest there for a moment, then, stealing a quick glance at Dave, she grinned and let her fingers dip beneath the waistband of her skirt, venturing down between her legs. The light turned green and she gunned the engine, startling Dave out of his reverie just as she released her first gasp of pleasure. Her lips were dry and so she licked them, spreading glistening moisture across the sun-pink and oh-so-full expanse of her bottom lip. Her fingers slipped easily through the moisture in her slit, gliding across the heated and swollen flesh to find the tiny hidden nub of her clitoris buried within the folds. She massaged it, flicking her fingertip across the tiny button in quick little movements, just barely touching it... teasing it so that the lightness of the caress drove her wild.
She moaned slightly and Dave's mouth opened wide. He stared at her for a moment, then looked toward the road ahead of them. The car kept straight on its original trajectory... she must have done this before to be so good. His eyes dropped to where her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her skirt. The piece of cloth had been pushed aside and so he could see her hand working there, slipping in and out of her ready cunt... fingers glistening with her wetness.
The radio blared and they stopped again, another red light. A younger man sat in the truck adjacent to them and he laughed and whistled as he took note of Amanda. Oh, God... sweet Amanda. With her naughty smile and wicked eyes. Amanda with her slit skirt and wild hair. Amanda with her sexy tattoos and cocktease attitude... crazy, wild, loudmouthed, beautiful, completely wanton... Amanda.
